


End of My Daze

by LikeALiar



Series: The Woods Have Eyes [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied Child Abuse, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 09:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeALiar/pseuds/LikeALiar
Summary: VIrgil is a lonely child.





	End of My Daze

# ((8))

The grass looked so green.

Virgil wanted to know what it felt like.

Maybe it was spindly like the spider plant Aunt Flora had in the kitchen. Or maybe it was soft like the moss that grew on the side of the house. The patch that he could barely brush over with his fingers from the porch. Maybe it was fuzzy, like the licorice plant by his room. Would it prickle like the spines of the cactus by the stairs? Would it feel dry? Warm?

Virgil crouched on the edge of the porch, toes hanging over the step below. The wood underneath him was worn and smooth from the hours and days and years that Virgil had crouched in this spot and stared. He stared because he had nothing else to do. He had already read every book he was allowed several times. Even the Latin vocabulary, a book that was so dry and boring Virgil felt like he’d rubbed sandpaper on his brain when he finished it, hadn’t gone unskimmed. His chores were simple and took little time to complete. He could draw, but he had already doodled every inch of the house he could enter (and besides, Virgil didn’t think he was very good). He supposed he could sew or knit, but he didn’t have enough fabric or yarn to complete a project and it would be at least another week before one of the Aunts went… wherever they went to get the things they didn’t already have here. So, he crouched. And he stared.

He thought the garden was beautiful and it had captured his imagination the second he saw it when he was younger. The sprawling blackberry bush and choking mint leaves competing for space while flowers of every color filled the gaps. Herbs were the only plants that had any semblance of order to them. They stood in perfect rows and each plant had a single label stuck into the ground. The only ones he could read from this distance were the sage and rosemary, although he was pretty sure the plant directly behind the sage was thyme, but it could also be oregano. He tended to get those ones confused, much to the dismay of Aunt Fleur. Along the back the garden turned into a grove. Two apple trees, a lemon tree, and several evergreens coated the backyard in constant shade.

He wanted to walk in the garden and touch the plants, and pick the berries, and pull the weeds, and sit in the shade, and climb the trees, but his Aunts said that he wasn’t ready yet. They said it wasn’t safe. And every time he asked, they pointed at the board on the wall of the kitchen where the Rules were written. And every time Virgil would slump, because rule number one was _Never leave the house_. The rules had changed as he had gotten older. When he turned six, “the house” had been expanded to include the porch and now Virgil wasn’t so pale that he glowed. The list was short, but it had been made very clear very early that breaking any of them was a very bad idea.

Virgil still avoided the basement.

He really didn’t understand what was so dangerous about the garden. Nothing In it seemed to be dangerous and the entire thing was surrounded by a wall that was taller than Aunt Flora even if she jumped. Virgil wasn’t sure how either of them even left the premises as there wasn’t a gate or doorway that he could spot from any of his vantage points, and the Aunts always slipped away without him seeing.

Beyond the wall captured Virgil’s eyes as often as the garden it circled. The sound the trees made when the wind blew through them was the prettiest sound he had ever heard. Sometimes he would catch sight of a raven sitting in the trees. Sometimes there were even two or three of them. Sometimes would sit in the tree directly across from the porch and Virgil would stare at them and they would stare back. Sometimes he would slowly blink and nod his head at them. Sometimes they bobbed back before flying away. Sometimes Virgil missed them.

They felt like friends.

The front door opened behind him and he caught a swish of green in the corner of his eye,_ Aunt Fleur,_ before a hand pushed his hair from his forehead.

“Hey Cloverlove. Time for lessons, alright?” Aunt Fleur’s voice sounded like the wind during a summer rain storm. It sort of whistled and was full of air but could blow you over with its unexpected strength. It contrasted Aunt Flora, who sounded like the scratches that came out of the old record player when the music stopped and the feeling you get when you’re being watched.

Virgil turned his head to look up at his Aunt and nodded once. Not like how he nodded at the birds. This one was short a jerky and looked like a stutter in movements. A lot of what Virgil did looked like a stutter. He stood up and his Aunt placed a hand on his back to guide him into the house. A look over his shoulder revealed a raven staring back at him. Virgil barely had time to look surprised before the door was closed again.

The house itself was dark. Despite the numerous windows, light barely penetrated the interior. It looked like everything should be dusty but somehow it wasn’t. Plants covered almost every surface not reserved for another purpose. Windowsills and side tables and the top of the cabinets were covered in green. It was the only color in the house outside of Aunt Fleur’s green dresses and Aunt Flora’s blue pants. Everything else was in shades of grey. Even Virgil.

Watering the plants was one of his chores, the only one he really liked to do and sometimes in the spring, some of them would begin to bloom. The sudden appearance of little pink or yellow flowers entranced him. He loved that he could help something grow in the dreary house.

The pair entered the kitchen, one of the few rooms that Virgil was allowed in on his own and he obediently sat down at the table when his Aunt gestured to do so.

“Where’s Aunt Flora?” he tilted his head. Normally she was the one who gave him lessons on sunny days, while Aunt Fleur took care of the days where the sun was blocked. Virgil’s guess for this was because Aunt Fleur preferred to be outside when the sun was shining, while Aunt Flora seemed to shun daylight’s existence. The change in teacher for the day disappointed him. He was looking forward to learning more about French history, but Aunt Flora was the one who taught him history, math, and literature, while Aunt Fleur taught him biology, and cooking, and languages.

“She had other had other things to do at the moment. No more questions,” she pulled a book from the nearby shelf and opened it in front of him. “Read the next 6 chapters and take notes as you go. I will be in the study. Knock when you have finished, and I will review what you have done.” Aunt Fleur turned away and swept out of the room.

Virgil pulled the book toward him with a slight grimace and opened his notebook.

~<>~

The sun had nearly finished setting by the time Virgil finished. The book he had been given for the day was on the uses of various plants for medicinal purposes. It wouldn’t have been so bad except it was written in Russian and Virgil hated reading the Cyrillic alphabet. It took forever for him to get used to it and even longer for him to switch back to any language that used the Latin alphabet. It didn’t help that his Aunts insisted all of his notes be in English and the constant translating was giving him a headache.

Virgil stood from the table and headed down the hallway toward the study. The door was shut as usual, but he could hear angry whispers on the other side. _I wonder when Aunt Flora got back? _

At the sound of his quiet knock, the voices quieted. A click of heels preceded the door opening.

“Yes?”

“I-I finished the chapters, Aunt Fleur.” Virgil wrung his hands and stared at the ground.

“Very good. Leave your notebook on the table and put the book away. Make yourself some food and then go to your room.”

“Y-yes, Aunt Fleur.”

He caught sight of Aunt Flora tapping her foot impatiently before the door was closed once again. The whispers didn’t restart until he retreated back to the kitchen.

The book was returned to the shelf with the assistance of one of the dining room chairs and he centered his notebook on the table. The fridge had leftover pasta from the night before and after cleaning everything to its previous state, he retreated to his room. The whispers were as fierce as ever as he passed.

Virgil felt more at ease in his room than anywhere else he had ever been. His Aunts rarely, if ever, entered it so the constant feeling of being watched lessened considerably, a vague itch rather than a constant burn. The room itself was as grey as the rest of the house. He wasn’t even allowed any plants of his own in here and after Aunt Flora started yelling, he stopped asking. A single window illuminated the room with the last light of the sunset, and he gazed longingly out of it until his room turned dark.

Virgil changed into his pajamas, collapsed onto his bed, and buried himself under the blankets. His brain felt fried after his lesson from the day, but he still began to review so that he would be ready for Aunt Fleur’s quizzing the next morning. She became angry when Virgil forgot things.

_Chamomile for peace._

_St. John’s Wort for joy._

_Ginkgo for fatigue._

_Bay Laurel for earaches._

Virgil’s eyes began to droop.

_Peppermint for nausea._

_Elderberry for pain._

_Blue Snakeweed for…_

_Clove…_

Virgil felt safe. Which was strange. Virgil never felt safe. He should feel… Well, he didn’t know what he should feel. Not when everything was floating and soft and fuzzy at the edges. He peaked his eyes open and he realized he was lying on the grass outside. He was in clearing in the woods. He could see the clouds overhead, moving gently across the pale blue sky. Some of them had shapes in them There were voices a little bit a way from him. They were laughing.

_“Virgil! Stop daydreaming and come play with us!”_

He turned his head to the voice, _he knew that voice, it sounded like hot tea on a rainy day,_ and smiled but before he could see the source, shadows curled up over him and pulled him into the underbrush.

Virgil felt scared.

It was dark.

He was in the basement.

He knew that.

_Why am I in the basement?_

He did something bad.

_What did I do?_

He broke a rule.

Something was in the basement.

He could hear it.

It was breathing

and moving

and

it

was

getting

closer

virgil could

Feel

its breath

on the

back

of

his

neck.

it was laughing at him

wait

stay still

there’s more than one

something brushed his foot

virgil wanted to

Scream

but his voice was gone

a hand

was around his

throat

and

in his

hair

and

Virgil jerked awake with a gasp, blankets tangled around him. He tried to remember what woke him up but the more he grasped for the details of the dream,_ a nightmare,_ the more they slipped away until all he was left with was a heart that pounded and a sense that something had been stolen from him.

**Author's Note:**

> Any theories?
> 
> Come hang out with me at strawberry-sanders on tumblr!  
I'm going to be doing a stream tomorrow (8/23/19) at about 7 pm PST to draw a scene from this chapter! You should join! I'll post a link to the stream on my tumblr when it's gonna be happening.


End file.
